


The Golden

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ancient Greece, Bolder and Younger Character who Seduced Him, First Kiss, Fluff, Implied First Time, M/M, Male Actor Plays Female Parts, Stockings, Theater - Freeform, insecure character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26424229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: If only Leto had had more confidence in himself, more sense of self-worth, they could have been doing this this whole time. But now is good too, he supposes.
Relationships: Ancient Greece Actor Playing Female Parts/His Rich and Insecure Plump Celibate Patron, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17
Collections: Classical Flash 2020





	The Golden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KannaOphelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/gifts).



> Hey dear recip! This was my first time actually offering OW so I really hope you enjoy this little fic. Your letters gave me all sorts of feelings and I wanted to give back some of that softness to you 😘
> 
> Some researched onomastic for these guys ;):  
> Younger Male part of the ship: Chryseis - Golden  
> His female part as the lyre artist in search of love: Natasa - Resurrection
> 
> The Older half of the ship: Leto Chondralis - The hidden one  
> His Middle Age sister and confidant: Dareia - Wealthy  
> His departing Maid: Harmonia: Harmony

_"You should find yourself a young thing to love and cherish you as you deserve. Someone excitable, and gentle."_

Harmonia's last words to him made Leto smile, albeit a little self-deprecatingly. Count on an equally young, gentle and excitable soul of a maid to have such illusions as to gaud her into thinking someone like her might want someone like him for any reason other than the money in his purse. But no matter what he thought of them, Leto still could not let go of said words. She had looked so earnest saying them, had squeezed his round and clumsy fingers so delicately. He could still feel the kiss of her lips to his forehead. 

She had always known he could not fancy a woman, not really, not in the way he could fancy boys at least. Not that that had much mattered in the course of his life. Thirty-six years of celibacy, however opulent and fulfilling in any other area, were still a large number of years to be alone and feel too ugly to attract even the flimsiest of looks. 

Leto wanted, but he did not have. 

"Would you stop with the long sighs already?" 

Leto smiled again, turning to his sister, watching as Dareia gave him this look that told of both her exasperation and her fondness. Where he had always been slower, mellower, more inclined to please, she had always known to take her due, and make others do her bidding. Of course she would not suffer his melancholy. Not when they were trying to enjoy the new performance of their patroned theater. Not the day they introduced the new play their actors had so dutifully rehearsed. 

But that was the point, wasn't it? The new, fresh-faced, promising and yet depressing point that found itself embodied in the equally fresh and vibrant person of Leto's favorite actor, who was to impersonate the main protagonist of today's play — Natasa, the lyre musician who was to sing and dance and cry in her search for love. 

Chryseis. The golden. The sweet. The sugar to Leto's wine. The unreachable Chryseis in his body stocking and prosterneda, his mask winking at Leto's misery and his hands flying over the lyre with more care and softness than should be possible to any man. 

The City was assembled in the theater, watching, enjoying the spectacle, wining and dining at the very same time they followed the story of Natasa, the ever suffering nymph who needed love to survive, and could not find it in her peers. 

Leto was finding it difficult to concentrate on the exact story even though he knew it by heart, had read it on scrolls and had seen it rehearsed. All he could see, what kept him rooted in place and thrilled his back into straightening up, was the stocking that covered Chryseis's long and thin legs, was the delicate touch the man brought to everything he said and did on stage, was the conviction — foolish — that every time Chryseis's character was to sigh in melancholy, the actor looked directly at Leto. 

The play did not last long enough for Leto to shake off the feeling that was stuck in his mind, that made his hand sweat and his brow furrow. The play was too short for him to quiet the arousal under his robe and the panic in his heart when he rounded the theater to find his actors resting, and saw Chryseis, minus the mask, grinning at him. 

Leto's breath did not come easy when he had to walk fast, but this was a different thing entirely. His lungs seized up, because Chryseis was walking towards him, wearing not much more than his body stockings, and he was smiling in a way he had only ever hinted at before. Leto did not know if he would survive this look if it went on much longer. 

What a fool he was — Chryseis did not give him a choice. 

"Follow me to my lounge, please," Leto's lead actor whispered, almost in his ear, while everyone else still buzzed about and Dareia went from group to group asking about their thoughts on this first live performance of the play. 

Leto followed, a bit dazed, panic still filling him with jitteriness and making him trip here and there in more of his habitual graceless clumsiness. 

"Say it," Chryseis said the moment Leto pushed the curtains of the man's lounge so they would fall back into place. They were alone here, everyone having stayed behind. "Tell me, what you have not yet told me, and yet are dying to whisper." 

The man's bottom lip was trapped under his teeth, the most maddening sight Leto had ever seen. He had his hands on his hips and his curls fell down in his eyes, and all Leto could think was how perfectly lovely it would be to brush them back and away from the man's forehead. Chryseis did not let him go down that path too long. He walked up to Leto, until Leto's only choice was to step back, and again, and again, until he couldn't. Until his back met a wall, and Chryseis's perfect, muscular yet lean body was plastered to his own, flattening his belly with the contact. 

Leto squeaked in surprise, and Chryseis grinned at him again. He had such a pretty smile. 

"What do… what do you want me to say?" Leto gasped, feeling Chryseis's hands settle on his hips, his fingers playing with his flesh there. 

"What you have been thinking this whole time, Leto Chondralis, what you have been wanting for so many months, waiting for it, watching _me_. Tell me what you want." 

Chryseis talked, and when his words really hit Leto, there was nothing to do but surrender. Nothing to do but accept what he had refused to believe could be true every time he had seen the man's eyes on him since they had first met, every time their eye contact had lingered, and Leto's fingers had yearned to reach for him. 

"I want you," Leto finally admitted, when the warm breath coming out of Chryseis's mouth and falling down his neck finally pushed him far enough. "I want you so much, but—" 

"But I want you, too." Chryseis laughed, and shut up any more chatter by pressing a hand to the side of Leto's face, cupping his plump cheek and brushing his thumb over it — it was perfect, the most perfect palm to cup his face, the most perfect eyes he could drown in this close, watching him as they inched their way closer to each other. "I want you so much, master." 

Kissing Chryseis was every dream Leto had ever had in his life coming true, and more. It was tender and yet heated. It made his whole body thrum with pleasure.

Leto did not know if Harmonia had been right in saying he deserved this, but as Chryseis repeated, over and over again, that he wanted him and that he needed him, and that his desire for him would consume him if Leto did not let him touch him further, Leto lost track of what he deserved, and chose to focus on what he wanted. 

_Chryseis. The golden._


End file.
